


Chaos Theory

by danchouseyebrows (WitchcraftAndTrickery)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Agender Hange Zoë, All The Ships, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Levi is from Manchester, M/M, More characters as they appear, Multi, Oxford, Slow Burn, University, and more ships, gratuitous dialect, like three years of slow, the most british thing you will read all day, the oxford au no one asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 07:26:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6275164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchcraftAndTrickery/pseuds/danchouseyebrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Chaos: When the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future." - Edward Lorenz</p>
<p>When eighteen year old Levi Ackerman is accepted into the prestigious Oxford University, he knows his life is going to change, but perhaps not in the way it does. Thrown from a Manchester council estate to the Dreaming Spires, Levi has to balance his studies and his social life, all the while fighting a growing attraction to the man who doesn't even know himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chaos Theory

**Author's Note:**

> aka, author uses their own university to write gay fanfiction. this fic is gonna be long, slow burn and eventually branching out in 104th territory too so stay with me guys
> 
> thanks to beaut beta reader bethatemycookies for fixing my spacebar control and mocking my character's musical taste <3

Honestly, he’d expected better.

A quick Wikipedia check had told him that Maria College had an estimated total assets of around fifty million, so something told him he was getting the short straw here. The wall-sized window didn’t seem to shut properly, and the early October wind that buffered the top floor of the block whistled frostily through the gap it left. Sitting down on the lumpy, cardboard-soft mattress and pulling up the hood on his sweater, Levi let out a sigh. The walls were a dirty cream colour, the carpet dark blue and iron flat. There was a suspicious looking stain in the corner. The light from beneath the dusty shade hanging limply from the ceiling was somewhere between faded yellow and dirty orange.

Oxford University, Levi thought resignedly, and student accommodation was still shitty. Well, Maria College accommodation was, at least. He’d be annoyed, but then he supposed that he wasn’t actually paying for it himself. The radiator was blasting out hot air, and there was a large desk, which was still something of a novelty. So maybe not as bad as it could have been.

Sighing heavily, Levi heaved himself off the bed and began to rifle through his cases. He hadn’t brought much, especially since most of his reading had been done through the library back home, which was a small mercy on the train down; he’d watched with some amusement the carts full of suitcases and crates being pushed to rooms by parents, kids his own age wobbling behind them trying not to look terrified. No, all Levi had was the two cases he’d lugged down, and the new laptop he’d bought himself with the cash prize from that writing competition, to replace the ancient slab he’d done his coursework on. That had been given pride of place in the centre of his new desk, and he stared at it fondly for a moment, remembering the glorious moment Mum had refused the cheque _Flight_ had won him, and even more so the feeling of awed relish as he’d walked out of PC World clutching it to his chest.

There was a sudden furious knocking on the door, jolting Levi out of his thoughts.

Opening it cautiously, Levi found himself yanked forward with a squawk, tripping into the chest of a stranger. It smelled of aftershave.

“Hey! So, I’m your neighbour, I guess,” came the voice from above his head – the body trying to envelope him in a hug was a good five inches taller than him – “I’m Hanje. Room 23. Human Science. Nice to meet you!”

The arms around his back tightened, and Levi realised he wasn’t getting out until he reciprocated. “Levi,” he muttered, patting the figure’s back awkwardly. “English.”

“Oh my god, the first non-Londoner I’ve met all day,” gasped Hanje, pushing him back and grinning at him. His neighbour was indeed a head or so taller than him, with a scruffy chestnut ponytail and thick rectangular glasses. “I’ve never really met a Northener before. Well, there was this guy my parents knew, but he was this ex-60’s-new-ager, yeah? Had this like, druggy kind of slur to his voice. And he think was from like Lincoln anyway, is Lincoln technically north?”

“No,” replied Levi, monosyllabically, almost transfixed by the seemingly battery-powered human in his doorway and already wondering slightly when the batteries would run out. _Maybe they’re one of those highs and lows people_ , he wondered. _Like any minute now they’ll just stop talking and stare into nothing_.

“But you definitely are?”

“I’m from Manchester.”

“Oh that’s so cool! I swear Manchester gets all the best music. I mean, what, you’ve got britpop, the Beegees… Oh  my –” Hanje stopped and held up their hands, taking a deep breath. “Fucking Joy Division, right?! The Smiths, too, oh my God… Factory Records, 1980’s Manchester. What a time to be alive.”

Levi felt himself warm toward the human battery a little as their face lit up at the concept of his favourite music. “Yeah, New Order too. And the Happy Mondays. Well, they’re kinda from Salford, I guess, but it’s close enough.”

“Oh my God, yes. I managed to find an original vinyl copy of _Squirrel and G-Man_ in this charity shop by mine a few years ago, best moment of my fucking life.”

“You serious?”

“Yeah, it‘s pretty scratched but it still plays alright. Original dust cover and everything.” Hanje’s eyes were practically sparkling.

“I’ve always wanted a vinyl player,” muttered Levi, as if he wanted to be heard but not necessarily listened to. Hanje shot him a narrow look, one that he couldn’t distinguish as to whether it was withering or analytical.

“I’ve got mine with me!” they suddenly squeaked. “I collect vintage vinyl, see – don’t look at me like that, I know, massive hipster, right – but I didn’t want to leave it behind so I blagged my parents into bringing it up with me. You should come over some time, we’ll have a jam!”

Levi dug his hands into his pockets and nodded. “That’d be pretty cool. Thanks.” He was somewhat startled to have already made a friend. Though all he seemed to know about his new neighbour was their music taste and the smell of their aftershave. If they even shaved. Truth be told, he couldn’t really tell what exactly they were. Not that it mattered, he supposed, thinking of Isabel back home. His new friend was now, however, settling themself onto his still unmade bed, casting a coffee coloured eye around at his half empty cases. Levi suddenly felt very conscious of how meagre it must look, glancing back to the shiny new laptop for reassurance. Hanje had brought a turntable, for Christ’s sake.

“I haven’t, em –”

“Is that your mum?”

Levi turned to where she was looking, taken aback by the sudden question. The framed photograph had been one of the first things he’d unpacked, setting his mother’s smiling face on his bedside table. He supposed it wasn’t difficult for anyone to guess the relationship. He’d inherited the dark hair and narrow jaw from her, as well as the low brow ridge that gave him what his friends back home had nicknamed his _resting bitch face_ ; that was, the permanent expression that gave off a distinct vibe of ‘I really don’t care and you really don’t want to tell me’. “Yeah,” he replied, “that’s her.”

“You look alike.”

“A lot of people say that,” he mused, perching on his new swivelling desk chair. “It’s just me and her at home.” Hanje nodded, blinking a few times as if filing this new information away in some cabinet drawer in their head. “She didn’t come down,” he added as he saw their mouth open in question. “She had to go to work this morning.”

It was impossible to miss the way Hanje’s face fell, though they quickly recomposed it. Taking off their glasses and wiping the lenses with a loose yellow sleeve, they carefully looked anywhere bar Levi’s face. “What does she do?” they asked, after a small silence.

“She’s a cleaner,” Levi admitted, nonchalantly. Hanje nodded, pensively.

“That’s – listen, I don’t wanna sound like, rude or anything but like –”

“Wrong to be in Oxford when my mum’s a cleaner? You’re not the first person to say that, don’t worry.” He tried to mask his disappointment. He’d really hoped it wouldn’t start this early. Everyone had said that it would start this early.

Hanje looked horrified. “No! No no no, that’s not what I was gonna say at all!” They stood up quickly, eyes wide. “It’s actually really cool, isn’t it? Like, Oxford has such a shit reputation for all that stuff. Taking people based on merit, and not just money and that. Both my parents are artists, right, but my dad’s got this graphic design company so we’re alright.” They were fiddling with their hands now, looking pleadingly at Levi. “I think – I think it’s really great you’re here. And I wanna be friends. Let’s be friends!”

There was something about Hanje’s energy that was completely infectious. Hopefully not the kind that itched, Levi briefly thought, mustering a small smile. “It’s cool,” he mumbled, relaxing again. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Do you wanna go meet the others?” Hanje asked, suddenly.

“The others?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen a few more people on our floor since I got here. You’re in 22, there’s this tiny girl next door to me – she doesn’t speak much, I think she’s called Petra – a couple of other people, and I’ve seen these two tall guys that have been wandering around for a few hours too. Wanna get to know the neighbours?” Their eyes were glinting in excitement, and for the first time since arriving, Levi felt the small knot that had twisted in his guts slacken a little.

“Sure. Should be fun.”

* * *

 

Mike Zacharias was indeed, a tall guy. Levi, on the other hand, was not a tall guy, something Hanje had pointed out with loud glee as the two stood opposite each other in the doorway. Levi had unleashed a torrent of obscenities at the brunette as they clapped wildly, cackling, “You’re so fucking _short!_ ”. Mike’s response had simply been to grin, and invite them in for a beer.

Mike’s room was identical to Levi’s in every way, even the washbasin cupboard in the same corner, but the taller man had obviously put more effort into his surroundings than Levi had. A huge print of the cover of Frank Herbert’s _Dune_ was tacked over his bed, along with a couple of other posters of vague looking indie bands with plaid shirts and stoned expressions. The bookshelf above the desk was stacked with sleek, brand new volumes of textbooks with names like _Madness Explained: Psychosis and the Human Nature_ and _Phantoms in the Brain: The Architecture of the Mind_ , somewhat disturbingly mixed in with dog-eared copies of Arthur C. Clarke and Robert Heinlein. A small pot of what looked like herbs was sat in the corner of the window, and a beer fridge hummed contentedly in from its perch atop the drawer unit. It was from this that Mike had retrieved three more bottles of San Miguel as Hanje and Levi had entered.

“This is Petra, by the way,” he said, gesturing to the tiny redhead sitting cross-legged on the carpet. “She lives opposite.”

“Hi!” she piped up, smiling from over her mug of tea. “I think I’m next to you, actually,” she added, looking over to Hanje, who was already examining Mike’s sci-fi collection with some interest.

“Yeah,” they replied, jauntily. “I don’t think I saw you move in, though. Is this a first edition?”

“No, internationals got here last week. Had to do this orientation thing,” Petra explained, paying no mind to the fact that Hanje’s nose was now buried somewhere in the cover pages of Joanna Russ’ _The Female Man_. “I got here from Prague on Tuesday.”

“From Prague?” asked Levi, settling onto the desk and reaching for the bottle opener Mike was holding out. It was only three pm, but nobody seemed to pay any mind. “Were there many of you? Internationals, I mean.”

“Mhm.” Petra took a sip of tea, nodding. “Quite a few, actually. A girl from Holland, and a few more I don’t actually remember. Ilse’s nice. Then there’s, um, some Swedish guy. I think his name’s Elk? Elm? Something like that, I haven’t seen him much. I only say ‘cause he’s friends with these other two I liked – Gunther, he’s from Germany, and Oluo’s Spanish. I’m doing Spanish and English, so he’s offered to help.”

Levi smiled. “We’ll have classes together, then. English.”

Petra’s eyes lit up. “That’s so exciting!” she gasped, leaning forward. “Have you done the reading for the Victorian paper?”

“Yeah, most of it. I did the Brontë’s for A Level, though, and to be honest, I just really hate George Eliot, so that’s hasn’t happened –”

“Which bit of Manc you from?” chimed in Mike, suddenly, halting himself from pulling his books away from Hanje.

Levi looked over. “Wythenshawe,” he grunted, ears pricking up at Mike’s own intonation, and pretending not to notice his wince at the name of Levi’s home. “You’re further North than that.”

The tall man grinned, running a palm over his half-grown stubble. _I can’t even grow that_ , Levi thought sulkily. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Halifax. Yorkshire lad and all that. Can’t pretend I’m not glad to have someone else to share the accent piss-takes.”

Levi shrugged. “Hanje sounds like something from Oliver Twist. We can always take the piss out of… them, if it comes to it.”

Hanje’s glasses appeared from the top of the Russ. “Fuck off,” they muttered, “I’m from Brighton. Also, yeah – they pronouns, and all that, cheers.”

A quiet knock on the door sounded as they finished speaking, all four heads in the room following the interruption. Mike unfolded himself – _seriously, whose legs are that long –_ from his desk chair and went to answer it. Levi’s eyes followed the long legs  as they traipsed to the door, briefly weighing up if this new beardy giant was his type or not. It was then that the door was pulled open.

“Hi,” came a voice from beyond Levi’s line of sight. “I’m Erwin, I live next door? I just heard voices, and wondered if it was okay to come round?” The accent was clipped, the voice deep. Levi bit his tongue to avoid muttering ‘ _posh wanker_ ’ under his breath.

“Yeah, sure! I’m Mike – ” he turned, ushering the other man into the room – “and this is Levi, Hanje, and Petra. They all live on ‘same floor.”

The first thing that Levi noticed about Erwin, aside from his Eton-inflected voice, was that he was also tall. _Typical_. The next thing he noticed was that he was obnoxiously good looking. He was all cheekbone and jaw and brow ridge, golden blonde hair flopping in his eyes, away from where it had obviously been slicked down. Even wrapped in an expensive-looking blazer, it was obvious that he was bulky, wide shoulders and square chest.

_Fuck it all_ , thought Levi, taking a heavy swig of his beer. _Fucking typical_.

**Author's Note:**

> hanje's name is spelt this way on purpose! all will be revealed. chapter name from 'tart tart' by the happy mondays.


End file.
